


fire and gold

by daisy_chains



Series: son of a dragonlord [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisy_chains/pseuds/daisy_chains
Summary: “And Aithusa? How’ll she react?”“To meeting you?”“Well, yes.”“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll love you.”





	fire and gold

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Son of a Dragonlord](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078998) and [A Dragon's Egg](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079229).
> 
> Title from Bea Miller's Fire N Gold.

“It’s settled, then?” Merlin asks for what must be the hundredth time. If Arthur wasn’t as excited - because he certainly wasn’t nervous, no matter what Guinevere says - as the man walking beside him, he would have no doubt told Merlin to shut up.

“ _Yes_ , as I’ve told you several times,” he says instead, walking toward his chambers after a day of council meetings. “We’re leaving at first light, so make sure we’re packed.”

⁋

Arthur steps into the courtyard, discussing preparations for a tournament planned for the following week with the Steward. Ahead of him Merlin stands, fidgeting with the reins in his hands. The servant’s mare nuzzles his shoulder as the king’s stomps a hind foot impatiently. 

“We can discuss this further when I return,” Arthur says as the Steward pauses for breath. “Though I am sure Guinevere would be more than willing to work out these arrangements with you.”

“Of course, thank you, Sire.” The Steward bows, halting as the king continues his path to the horses. “Good luck on you hunting trip, Sire!”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Arthur turns his full attention to his servant. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, shoving the king his reins before mounting his own horse. “Let’s go.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur begins, but trails off as the servant starts moving, not bothering to wait for him to mount. Grumbling a few choice words under his breath, he mounts and hurries to catch up with the overeager idiot.

⁋

“How much further is it?” Ignoring the amused grin sent his way, Arthur watches the path ahead of them and tries to recall the trip to Ealdor from Merlin’s first year in Camelot. 

“Shouldn’t be too long now,” Merlin answers. “Hopefully we can make it by dinner. I know Mother and Father will be thrilled to see us.”

“And Ai…Aithusa?” At the servant’s nod, Arthur continues. “How’ll she react?”

“To meeting you?” 

“Well, yes.” Arthur’s words are met with a quiet chuckle that fills him with dread.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Merlin says, but how can he _not_ at the younger man’s tone, “she’ll love you.”

⁋

Merlin dismounts first, in a rush to tie off his mare and greet his parents. 

_Not that I can blame him_ , Arthur thinks, shoving aside the familiar envy that rears its head. Instead, he focuses on tying off his own mount and following at a far slower pace to give Merlin a few moments alone with the couple. 

Walking with his head down, he fails to spot the dragon flying towards him at the speed of a crossbow bolt until Merlin shouts a warning. By then, however, it’s too late.

The dragon - the size of one of Arthur’s hunting dogs - rams into his chest and knocks him to the ground.

“ _Hello_ ,” she croaks, perched happily on the king’s chest. Arthur stares for a moment, winded, before gasping out his own - completely dignified, no matter what Merlin tells Guinevere later - greeting.

“Hi.”

⁋

“How’s uh… how’s your chest?” Merlin asks him after Aithusa has been dragged off him and herded into Hunith and Balinor’s home for dinner. Arthur glares at the servant’s grin and returning laughter. 

“Don’t tease him,” Balinor says, but the smirk growing on his face does little to comfort Arthur’s bruised pride. “Not everyone can handle a young dragon. Not even men with ‘ _dragon_ ’ in their name.”

Merlin chokes out a laugh, surprise and amusement dancing in his eyes as he turns to his mother, who stands with two bowls of food in hand, shaking her head and shoulders trembling in silent mirth.

“Thank you, Mother,” Merlin says, a grin splitting his face as his laughter fades, and takes both bowls from her hands. He hands one to Balinor and the other to Arthur, then guides the woman to her seat. “I’ll get ours.”

“Incorrigible,” she mutters, pinning Balinor with a look that reminds Arthur of her relation to Gaius. 

“But you love us.” Merlin places a bowl on the table in front of Hunith, then settles next to Arthur with one of his own.

⁋

After dinner, Merlin and Hunith leave with the dragon while Arthur remains inside with Balinor. He sits at the table across from Balinor, struggling not to squirm under the man’s stare.

A few painfully long moments pass before the dragonlord speaks. “There are a few things you need to know before I let you officially meet Aithusa.”

⁋

The moon is high in the sky by the time Balinor releases the king from his watchful eye. The dragonlord leaves to join his family and as much as Arthur would like to stay inside a while, give himself some time to think and the family some time to themselves, he can’t help but be drawn out after them.

He lingers just outside the door of their home, watching from afar as Merlin and Aithusa play fight, Merlin lunging at the dragon and the dragon in turn falling to the ground. The two move together seamlessly in a way that shows how often they’ve done this before. 

Balinor stands behind Hunith, arms wrapped around her waist and chin resting on the top of her head as they watch their son and dragon. Hunith laughs and swats Balinor's arm in response to something Balinor says, though Arthur can't make out the man's words. 

“Arthur,” Merlin’s shout draws his attention back to the two, now sitting on the ground. The future dragonlord leans against Aithusa’s side, panting, while the dragon seems completely unaffected by the messing about.

“What?” He takes a few steps forward, closing the distance until he can speak to the other without shouting. Merlin shares a look with his parents and the two venture back inside, Balinor taking Hunith’s hand in his as he does so and whispering into her ear. Arthur takes another step forward, repeating himself. “What is it?” 

“C’mon,” Merlin says in lieu of an answer, “sit with us.”

“Must I remind you who makes the orders around here?” Arthur asks even as he lowers himself to the ground.

“The man who can order dragons around?” His friend retorts with a grin. 

“Well,” he says grudgingly, “I suppose you aren’t wrong.”

“Of course not, you just always claim I am.” Before Arthur can say anything in response, Merlin moves on, gesturing to the dragon behind him that stares unnervingly at the king. “I want to properly introduce you to Aithusa.”

“Alright.” If Merlin ever claims that Arthur sounds nervous at the idea of being introduced to the dragon that had knocked him off his feet earlier that day like an overexcited dog, Arthur would like to put it on record that Merlin is a filthy liar and his words are not to be trusted. 

_At least this one isn’t burning Camelot to the ground_ , he thinks, but it does little to reassure him. 

“Right,” Merlin says, pushing himself onto his knees and shuffling to the side of Aithusa until he is no longer between the king and the dragon. “Well then. Aithusa, Arthur. Arthur, Aithusa.”

“ _Hello_ ,” Aithusa croaks, an echo of her earlier greeting. Despite himself, Arthur finds himself echoing his own greeting as well.

“Hi.” 

Silence. One moment stretches into two as Aithusa regards the king with a curious gaze and said king tries not to fidget, unnerved by the dragon’s stare. Eventually, Merlin breaks the silence with a groan. 

“You are hopeless,” he laments, ignoring Arthur’s indignant protests. “You really are. Come here, Arthur.”

“I’m perfectly fine where I am, thank you.” Ignoring his king’s words, Merlin shuffles forward and all but drags him forward, closing the distance between man and dragon. 

“Just relax, Aithusa isn’t going to hurt you.” 

_Easy for you to say_ , he growls mentally, but doesn’t put up any protest when his friend lifts his hand and guides it to the dragon’s neck. It surprises Arthur how warm the smooth scales are beneath his palm, though he thinks he should’ve expected it given the fact that dragons can breathe fire at will. Without thinking, he slides his hand down Aithusa’s neck slowly, curiously, only to withdraw with a budding panic as she shifts under his hand. 

“You’re fine, Arthur,” Merlin says, gently placing his own hand over Arthur’s. “If she didn’t like what you were doing, you wouldn’t have a hand anymore. Isn’t that right, ‘Thusa?”

“ _Right_.”

“That’s not at all comforting,” Arthur says, even as he repeats his previous motion and does not pull away when she leans into the touch. 

⁋

A while later, the three of them retreat back into the small home where Hunith and Balinor sleep and all but collapse around the small fireplace where a not yet dead flame flickers. Arthur finds himself sitting against a wall, watching his friend and Aithusa settle in for the night.

Aithusa curls up as close to the fire as possible, huffing a small flame onto the wood to keep it going. Arthur turns to Merlin, but the question on his lips dies at the quick shake of the other’s head. Instead, he lets her drape her tail over his legs and watches as the dragon - a creature of magic, able to breathe fire unable to be slain by any mortal weapon - falls into a deep sleep, breaths becoming slow and steady.

“Did you know,” Merlin begins, voice low as to not wake anyone, “that dragons sometimes see visions of the future?”

“Your father mentioned it, but he didn’t go into much detail.”

“I can imagine.” Merlin runs a hand through his hair, eyes trained on the ground in front of him.

 _I’m not sure I want to know_ , Arthur almost wants to say. He doesn’t.

“Aithusa had a vision,” his friend explains, voice barely a whisper now, “we’re not sure what it was about, she could hardly explain it in the dragon tongue, let alone in our own. But it was dark, and she was in pain, that’s all we know for certain.”

They sit in silence for a long time after that, neither certain of where to go from there. Eventually, Merlin’s breathing changes, and Arthur can’t quite tell if he’s awake or not. He probably is, given that it must be near morning, Arthur is certain, but unlike the others, he has no desire to sleep. 

Instead, he turns to Aithusa once more and stares, awe and wonder painted across his face in the light of the dwindling fire.

“You know,” he says, mostly to himself, careful not to wake the snoring creature, “I’m thinking about removing the ban on magic.”

Any semblance of sleep deserts Merlin as he shoots upright, turning wide eyes on Arthur.

“What?” 

“I said -”

“No, sorry, I know what you said, just - you caught me off guard.” 

“When are you _not_ off guard?” Arthur huffs quietly, but then shakes his head. “This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, actually.” 

There’s a pause. Arthur waits for Merlin to speak up, to poke fun at the idea of him thinking or to give the much appreciated but often dismissed advice he provides at random. He does neither. 

“You have?” 

He nods, brows furrowing as he gives up mentally tracing the individual scales on Aithusa’s side to watch his friend. Merlin’s eyes are wide with hope and fear. Arthur could guess why, he’s sure, with who Merlin’s father is, but there’s _more_.

He knows there’s more, there must be. 

“Merlin,” he begins, hesitantly and maybe just a bit afraid of allowing his thoughts to wander down that road, “you aren’t - you don’t have -”

Cutting himself off, Arthur diverts his gaze from the pale, terrified face staring back at him.

“You do.” 

Silence. One moment bleeds into two, then into three, then -

“I do,” Merlin says, voice almost inaudible, but Arthur hears him clearly. 

“How long?” Arthur asks, desperately attempting to keep his voice even, keep it light, as though he hadn’t been convincing himself otherwise for years. He refocuses on tracing Aithusa’s scales in the dimming light instead. 

“Always.” He can hear Merlin shift, hear him move closer, but he doesn’t look, _can’t_ look. “Arthur?”

“Always,” Arthur echoes, voice hollow even to his own ears. “How long is _always_?”

His friend shifts closer again and reaches out his hand as though to rest it on Arthur’s shoulder, but he stops, uncertain. 

“My whole life.” 

_That shouldn’t be possible_ , is the first thing that comes to mind at Merlin’s admission, but if Arthur knows anything, it’s that _possible_ and _Merlin_ rarely match up how they should. 

“Alright,” he says, still refusing to look at the man sitting next to him. 

“Alright?” 

“Yeah.” A hand settles on his shoulder, hesitant but when Arthur finally looks up, he no longer sees fear in Merlin’s eyes. Relief runs through his veins, sudden exhaustion chasing after it, and Arthur asks, “can we… talk about this later? I don’t think I can handle much more than I’ve already learnt tonight.”

“Of course,” Merlin answers immediately. “But I just - are you mad?”

“About what - about the magic?” A nod. “No, Merlin, I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” 

Huffing out a short laugh that lacks much humor, Arthur shakes his head. 

“Just - later, Merlin. We’ll talk later.”

Merlin shuffles back to where he was before with a short nod, not quite meeting Arthur’s gaze when he turns to him one last time. 

“Good night, then, I guess.” 

Arthur watches as his friend rolls over onto his side, facing away from where he and Aithusa lay near each other. 

“Good night, Merlin,” he says finally, settling himself down and letting sleep drag him away from reality. 

⁋

Arthur wakes the next day to something heavy sitting on his stomach and the smell of smoke smothering him. Cracking one eye open reluctantly, the events from the previous night weighing more heavily than anything else, he meets Aithusa's wide eyed stare with a grumble.

“ _Hello_ ,” she croaks quietly, shifting her head higher up his torso. 

“That's her favorite word.” Looking up, he finds Merlin watching the two of them. “Good morning.”

 _Is this later_? Arthur wonders as Aithusa lifts herself off the floor and bounds over to where Merlin's parents still sleep.

A groan and a few muttered curses emerge, followed by a familiar laugh, and Arthur decides, _no._

“ _Hello_.”

“Good morning, Aithusa.”

“Morning, Mother, Father,” Merlin calls, grinning, and Arthur realizes that it really doesn't matter, not now. 

This can wait, but for now they're the same people they've always been, and that's all that matters. He rises, stretching with a drawn out groan, and he takes the few steps needed to reach his friend and pull him into a brief headlock.

“Your dragon,” Arthur says, “is a menace.”

It isn't much, but it's enough. Merlin meets his eyes for the first time that morning and grins. 

“Oh, definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this finished for a while, just now getting around to posting it. 
> 
> This was supposed to be 700 works max and uhh it got away from me a bit. Also wasn't supposed to be a "Arthur figures out Merlin has magic" fic either, but it is now.


End file.
